parade report

en route to the cemetery

en route to the cemetery

I found this blog post about the Minot parade when somebody linked to my blog from there – was fun to read another perspective on things 😉  also good photos – enjoy!  http://louielbm.blogspot.com/2013/11/the-last-of-saddle-tramps-mesannie.html
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Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the ponies are cavorting and bucking and running about the back yard, they know we’re done and they’re celebrating in their way.  They love being at my folks’ place, roaming the huge back yard, gazing up at the remaining apples high up in the trees – wistfully – then at the house of the humans – expectantly and a bit impatiently.  It’s getting cold, windy, wintery.  The humans spend most of their time inside.  I’m trying to balance how much there is that needs to be done and figured out in the next three weeks with how much I need rest and a bit of down time.  Today I did laundry and worked on putting together a post card.  It felt good Not to Go Anywhere all day.
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I have much to write about the end of the Journey, or rather the ends of the Journey – reaching the Atlantic Ocean and the Mesannie Wilkins Day parade and festivities in Minot.  They were very different endings and I’m grateful for both experiences.  Most Long Rides don’t end with a lot of fanfare – which in one sense might seem sad, but a Long Ride is first and foremost about the relationship the Long Rider develops with the herd, whether it be one equine (like Katie Cooper and her good mule Sir Walter the Red) or Anna and Gilles – currently riding across Brazil with four horses.  Reaching the Atlantic was the culmination of a pact between me and the ponies and when I tried to lead them into the Ocean and they looked at me like I was daft, calling me on my silly human agenda of literal water to water, I had to laugh at how explicitly they communicate, how confident they are in their opinions, the funny 3-way partnership we’ve evolved over the past two years.  It seemed strange in Minot to be upstairs in a grange hall talking about the Journey while the ponies were several miles away in a pasture.  I found myself wondering about the logistics of ponies and stairs…
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Sun Journal Article and Photos

Gryph Wulfkil, Sea G Rhydr, Lucy Leaf

Gryph Wulfkil, Sea G Rhydr, Lucy Leaf

The ponies and I are back in Greenville at my folks’ place after an incredible, long, emotional, fun, intense and wonderful weekend in Minot, Maine.  Tomorrow morning Dad and I return the borrowed horse trailer to Hollis, NH and the borrowed truck to Albany, NY.  It’s cold and windy and spitting tonight so 10pm found Dad and me backing his ’65 Chevy pick-up out of the barn, covering it with plastic, checking the stall for potential pony hazards and putting hay down for the herd.  We’re All exhausted.  It’s after midnight now so I’ll keep this brief, but wanted to let you know there’s an article in the Sun Journal with 113 photos of the muster and parade.  You can find it here:
http://www.sunjournal.com/news/lewiston-auburn/2013/11/10/minot-parade-celebrates-womens-spirit-adventure/1449553

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hOMe

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Early in the Journey Gryph and I would joke that we were out on an adventure, finding the “om” in homeless.  We quickly learned that this wasn’t a very appropriate joke when we were trying to find a place to stay.  It made people nervous.  If we didn’t have any place of our own to go to we might try to stay with them!  Forever!  Often just the words, “We’ll be moving on in the morning” helped people decide that it was OK for us to stop for the night on their land.  We were saddle tramps, homeless by choice and design. If I’m honest, when Obama said he was going to “put an end to homelessness” it sounded more like a threat than a promise.  I was worried that the alternative might feel a lot like jail.
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In a way it’s been very motivating not to have a home base; it’s made quitting a much less attractive (almost impossible to imagine) option.  There were also times, when one of the ponies or I needed time to rest and recover, that not having a home of our own to go to has been difficult.  It’s one thing to stop for a night, maybe two, but stretching that into weeks?  That’s a lot to ask!  That’s a lot to offer!  And yet, every time the ponies and I have needed a place, for a night or an extended lay-up, it’s been provided.  You might think that such an experience, extended over two years, would have given me an unshakable, iron-clad Faith.  I Wish!
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As the herd and I got closer and closer to Minot and the end of the trail I started to worry – big time!  We’re all exhausted – tho probably me more than the ponies at this point. I have a huge responsibility to the real heroes of this Journey – Jesse James and Saint Finehorn – who have carried this whole dream so faithfully on their backs and hooves.  I am blessedly tired of being always in somebody else’s space, on someone else’s turf, feeling the constant need to move on.  I haven’t had a kitchen to call my own in 4 1/2 years.  I have a book to write!  Where could we go?  What would I do?  My Aunt Pat reminded me, “God doesn’t do things on time, He does them in time.”  My parents were remarkably calm and encouraging, but somehow their Faith wasn’t quite contagious and reassuring enough when it was my future on the line.  Inside my head a little voice was always saying things like “Easy for you to say.”  I currently have just about enough money left to send out all the postcards I’ve promised letting people know I made it to Minot.  Panic Zone!
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You know that feeling when you’re at an amazing feast, like Thanksgiving with all the trimmings or an all-you-can-eat buffet of all your favorite foods?  And you’re stuffed!  One more bite and you know you’ll explode – and Then it’s time for dessert?  Psychically, I reached that point with this Journey somewhere around Mississippi.  I’d had enough and more than enough and then some.  My manners were starting to slip and I knew it.  We’d made it through our second winter, I’d survived a fall which resulted in a concussion and torn muscles and two fractured vertebrae, the ponies were weary and I wondered at the wisdom of asking them to continue.  I was riding on to Minot because I’d said that I was riding to Minot, people were expecting me up in Minot AND I didn’t have a home to go to.  That was last March.  Sisu.
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In April we were invited to a jam session in Sabougla, Mississippi.  Every other Friday night a whole bunch of people (20-400!) bring food and instruments out to an 1890s farmhouse – they play music and break bread and catch up on each others lives and it’s good!  I spent several days in Calhoun County, catching up on rest and getting to know some of the people who live there and I found myself starting to feel a bit homesick for a community where I could have a little house and settle down with the ponies.  I suddenly realized how much I wanted a hOMe.  I was invited out to dinner at the steak house in the town of Big Creek – population 60.  We arrived a little early so I could take a look at a little old house on 5 acres – that just happened to be for sale.  I walked up on the porch of the house with its two rocking chairs and suddenly I knew I could write the book there.  The nearest grocery store is 6 miles away – within range of the ponies.

hOMe!

hOMe!

I started thinking about the Little House in Big Creek – a Lot.  Weeks went by.  I got the ‘phone number of the woman who owns it (she lives up in Memphis now – she’s 73 and was born there back when it was her grandmother’s house.)  We talked on the ‘phone for most of an hour and she eventually agreed to sell me the house for $15,000.  Completely reasonable – if I had that kind of money – which I didn’t.  After much deliberation I decided to sell the little casita I’d built on Vieques, Puerto Rico.  My folks were on their way down for a vacation and we agreed to talk more about it when they returned.  They came home saying that they didn’t want to lose the casita from the family.  I died a little inside.  THEN (have I mentioned that I have the most wonderful parents on the planet?) they came up with a plan.  They’d buy the place in Big Creek and we’d trade.  Wow! Walking on air, happy happy joy joy, I called the woman who owned the house.  She didn’t call back.  I left a message every week for a month and then sent a certified letter.  Nothing.  Are you starting to feel the roller coaster?  Two months ago I thought we had things figured out and the money was in escrow with the lawyer – she wasn’t ready to sign.  That thing about Faith?  And God’s sadistic sense of humor?  Right.
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The day before Halloween I got the news that the ponies and I have a home in Big Creek, Mississippi!  We’ll be living a bit rough at first – an outhouse and a spigot and a wood stove.  The house needs a LOT of work.  Trying to figure out how to have the water meter unlocked (but the water Not turned on yet) I wound up speaking with one of my neighbors to be.  She was wonderfully helpful and friendly and mentioned that the house hadn’t been lived in since she moved there – in 1975!  By my understanding the house was built in the 1840’s and human beings a lot like me lived there – before there was any such thing as city water or electric.  I’ve got good camping skills and a fair amount of determination – and a book to write before I get too carried away with learning how to restore a house.  I’m looking forward to it!  I’m also looking forward to being the host instead of the guest for a change – and I’m Not going to apologize for my rustic and random housekeeping. 😉
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After the parade and festivities in Minot my folks are borrowing a truck and trailer to get us back to their place in Greenville, NY where I’ll be staying through Thanksgiving.  Then it’s time to head South, with the ponies and what bits of furniture and housewares I still retain, to our new home.  At this point I have absolutely No Clue how that’s going to happen.  I haven’t owned a vehicle in about as long as I haven’t had a kitchen.  And this brings us back around to the topic of Faith.  One of the things my dad said to us growing up was “Who built the ark for Noah?”  OK – we know his sons probably helped quite a bit – but the point was that Noah didn’t sit around waiting for God to build the ark.  He got his instructions and he got busy.  And one of the things I’ve learned on this Journey is that when I’m doing everything I know to do, when I’m turning over every stone, when I’m listening to that little voice in my head and following instructions as best I can understand them – that’s when the miracles happen.  Right about now I’m feeling like it’s going to take a miracle to get the ponies and I down to Big Creek in early December.  I have no preconceived notions about what that miracle might look like.  I’m open to suggestions!
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I’ve been so blessed on this Journey, over and over again in ways I never could have imagined.  I have had experiences and learned things that most people only ever get a glimmer of and I really hope I have what it takes to give some of that back in the form of a book that’s worth the sacrifice of the trees.  (Notice how optimistic I am?  treeS!)  To have had the opportunity to live my dream – the one I’ve carried in my heart since elementary school – that is something I wish for each and every one of you!  For most of you I assume that won’t mean riding horseback across a continent – tho it’s a grand life if you don’t mind the water! 😉  I do believe that we each carry that dream, that thing that we know in our heart is uniquely ours to do – and when we step out in Faith and say “Yes!”  it not only transforms our own lives, but those of people we encounter and people we may never even meet.  What a privilege that is.  What a miracle!
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I Love a Parade!

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I’ve been trying to write a blog post about reaching the Atlantic Ocean and the end of the Journey.  I’ve sat down every day with my laptop and searched for words…
And for the moment I’m giving up because there are plans afoot in Minot and a parade in the works and I need to fill you in and also to ask for a little help.
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I would LOVE to have a flag in the parade from every state I’ve ridden through on my Journey.  They’ll be carried by riders in the parade, then hung around the grange hall during the dinner and festivities and then I am planning to make them into a quilt this winter in between writing chapters of the book.  I have flags promised from Oklahoma, Ohio, Texas, Maine, New York, California, Louisiana, Mississippi, New Mexico, Massachusetts, and I think Pennsylvania and Kentucky.  Still need flags sent from Arizona, New Hampshire, Vermont and Tennessee.  If you would be willing to send a flag from one of these states Please let me know.  The best size is probably around 2’x3′ – tho at least one that I know of will be 3’x5′.  The flags need to be in Minot by Friday 8.November if you’re mailing them.
The address is: Sea G Rhydr c/o General Delivery   Minot, ME  04258.
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If you’re bringing a flag with you (rather than mailing it) the muster for the parade is at Hemond Moto-X (695 Woodman Hill Road, Minot) at 11am!  There is Plenty of parking for horse trailers and setting up portable pens.  It looks like there’s going to be a good turn out.  Please feel welcome to come join the parade even if you don’t have a horse to ride – especially in (warm) costume.  My nephews will be walking and carrying a banner, there will be a boy scout troupe marching and I’ve heard rumors of a few bicycles along with a hay wagon and maybe even a women’s motorcycle club!  I’d love to find a horse drawn conveyance of some sort for my parents and my Auntie Pat if anybody has ideas for that!  Gryph would be absolutely delighted by a bovine.  The parade will be slow – probably about 2 mph and will go from the Speedway roughly 1 1/2 miles to Mesannie Wilkins’ old cellar hole on Jackass Annie road where there will be a brief ceremony.  From there, with anyone who wishes to continue, we’ll go on to Mesannie’s grave.  This is 2 1/2 miles via horse or on foot, 8 miles by road.  Not far from the cemetery we have a barn and several paddocks available for horses.  There will also be volunteers to help shuttle people back to their trailers, etc.
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At 4:30pm dinner will start being served at the West Minot Grange Hall – suggested donation $6 – proceeds to benefit the Minot Historical Society.  There is parking available for trailers and vehicles not far from the Grange Hall – where you won’t need to back up or do a lot of maneuvering.  There’s also a smallish parking lot just across the street that we’re trying to reserve for people who would honestly have a hard time walking 1/4 mile.  There are people attending to tell stories about Mesannie Wilkins who are in their 80s – so if you’re blessed with mobility please plan to use the far lot!  The speeches and stories and Mesannie Wilkins Documentary and other festivities will be taking place upstairs in the Grange Hall following dinner.
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One other request – I’d love to have one or more people there video taping the event – prep and parade and grange hall, behind the scenes, etc – it would honestly be great to have several perspectives!  If you have the talent and technology and are willing to come film – Please be in touch!

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We’ve come a looooooong way…

Made it to the Atlantic Ocean today

Made it to the Atlantic Ocean today

just in time for sunset

just in time for sunset

hey! that water is Moving!

hey! that water is Moving!

Brave ponies humoring a silly human with strange ideas

Brave ponies humoring a silly human with strange ideas

ok - ok - we'll deal with the photo op

ok – ok – we’ll deal with the photo op

but we'd really rather be eating the rose hips!

but we’d really rather be eating the rose hips!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Nature v Science?

I looked at him yesterday and he looked back at me.
I have no idea what he saw (or even exactly where his eyes are)
but I saw grey whiskers and instantly reverted to the masculine pronoun.
I was Trying to sit still and pay attention;
he never moved except to raise his glossy black face towards me
whenever I wrote something particularly brilliant.
(I thus considered him a most perceptive chap
and sought out his company again later in the day,
discovering that he had progressed 18″
up the bark of the ancient apple tree,
intent upon his own business.)
I paid my respects and departed.
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Today I returned, in search of my new friend,
hoping to become better acquainted.
I removed my spectacles and leaned in close
counting 8 black tufts down the length of his back
and 4 long bristles of black whisker – 2 fore and 2 aft.
I noted the texture of coral on his sides
and the different sorts of bristles
covering his presumably squishy body.

He ignored me.
Even when I blew on him.
I reached out a finger and he arched like a cat.
Curious about his feet I nudged him onto my notebook.
He lay on his side, a perfect arch, head and feet hidden
– as if I’d killed him.
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Mortified at my own lack of manners
I returned him to the tree
catching a glimpse of 8 suction cup feet – centrally located
and two more at his tail end
reconnecting him to home.

I left him to his meditations
– not feeling nearly so brilliant as yesterday.

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Minot Planning Update

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Plans in Minot are changing a bit -> at the meeting somebody pointed out how DARK it would be at 5pm in Minot (after daylight savings time) on 8.November!  So – the new plan: all of the “official” festivities will take place on Saturday 9.November.  We’ll start gathering for the parade around 11am.  At 1pm the parade will ride out, heading for the old cellar hole on Mesannie Wilkins’ former homestead.  That will mark the official end of the parade and from there I’ll go on (with whomever wishes to accompany me) with Jesse James and Saint Finehorn to visit Mesannie Wilkins’ grave.  Then the ponies will go to a nice quiet barn/paddock for the night while the humans head to the grange hall for dinner and celebration.  Anybody who wants to join the ride from North Yarmouth to Minot (Thursday and Friday) is still most welcome – we just won’t swell into a parade on Friday afternoon.
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Kevin McShane will be there showing his 25 minute documentary film, “The Mesannie Wilkins Story” and actress Joanie Mitchell, who played Mesannie in the film, will be there as well.  People who knew Mesannie personally will be coming to regale us with stories of her life in Minot.  Last I heard Lucy Leaf will be there representing the Long Riders’ Guild and Gryph Wulfkil (my boon companion, who accompanied me on the first 5 months of the ride and then returned for another 2 months mid-way) will be riding her beloved Saint Finehorn in the parade.   Speaking of the parade – I’d love to see a lot of costumes in the parade!  Come dressed as your hero or as who you want to be when you grow up, a fictional character or even a mythical beast!  Come out and play!
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It is increasingly strange to think about the Reality that three weeks from today I’ll be riding into Minot.  I’ve found myself walking alongside the ponies as much as I’ve been riding lately; a bit melancholy and contemplative, dawdling along talking to them as we meander.  I’ve found myself unconsciously procrastinating on things relating to the end of the Journey – like this blog post informing everybody of the change in schedule!  I’ve been avoiding ‘phone calls as much as I can (which I know isn’t helpful) and I’m shamefully behind on e-mail correspondence.  This being the case, if I haven’t answered your e-mail or I ought to have called you and haven’t, please don’t give up!  Things are falling through the cracks a bit and I need all the help I can get!  It’s easier for me to keep track of and respond to e-mails and facebook messages – ‘phone calls are ok when they’re short and to the point, but I often don’t have paper and pencil handy.  I’m feeling kind of quiet and withdrawn and maybe even a little bit lost.  All this, and the ride isn’t even over yet!  Two years is a looooong time!
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Last Spring I met a couple on the Natchez Trace.  They were from New Hampshire and our interaction was brief – but when I mentioned my friend who lived in Exeter they said that they were in the very next town with room for ponies and handed me a business card.  I tucked it away for many months and as I approached New Hampshire I actually managed to find it again!  I wrote an e-mail and it bounced back.  Heart in my throat I called the number and left a message.  Wonder of wonders they called back and the invitation was still open.  We discussed a few details and they organized a neighborhood potluck.  This is one of those situations when I realize just how special my ponies really are.  Over half of the neighbors were kids.  The ponies were loose in the side yard, barricaded in with chairs and sawhorses and tables full of food!  They were gentle and tractable as the kids took turns leading them around (and around and around) the yard.  They were polite as they accepted apples and carrots and a million pats and kisses.  They were patient and careful about where they put their feet.  They were pony love incarnate!  A few times I ran interference when I saw their attitudes starting to sour a bit, but most of the time I left them to the kids and they were beautiful!  So were the kids. 😉
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I’ve been staying a few days with a friend I haven’t seen in 6 years.  She’s added a husband and two young daughters since then!  The friendship goes back to a horse connection 30 years ago and to our mothers before we were born and it’s a much appreciated blessing to have some time with her in the midst of everything.  Yesterday the ponies moved from Stratham to Newcastle where they have a grassy pasture for a few days, courtesy of a woman whose sister goes to church with my folks back in Bethlehem, NY.  It’s a small country (when you’re not riding across it!)  Due to a couple of route changes I’m a few days ahead of myself in terms of scheduling and I’m so grateful to be able to spend them here with an old friend, knowing that the ponies are safe and happy.
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Sunday morning the ponies and I ride out to Dover, NH to the New England Equine Medical and Surgical Center – thankfully not because we need their services, but because they’ve been kind enough to offer a place to stop for the night!  From there it’s on to Old Mountain Farm (Nigerian milk goats) on the flank of Mount Agamenticus and then following the coast as best we’re able up to Wells, Maine and Kennebunk.  I’ve made the (perhaps rash) decision to leave my tent behind this last stretch.  I’ve got places to stay lining up as far North as Kennebunk and then picking up again in North Yarmouth.  Faith or foolishness?  Time will tell, but meantime Finehorn is grateful for a load that is lighter by 8 pounds and the forecast is holding mostly clear and not too cold.  I have yet to determine the best route from Kennebunk to North Yarmouth from the ponies’ perspective, but at most we’re facing four nights of the unknown.  Such small numbers…
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New England

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I have always dreaded “leaf season” in the North East.  The bright colors of the trees clash and jar and make me cringe.  I find it gaudy and overblown and frankly kind of embarrassing to have to bear witness to such flamboyant tackiness on the part of usually quite sensible and decorous trees.  I know – I’m weird.  I have learned something about myself this autumn tho; I can handle the display much better at horse speed than I can at vehicle speed.  It’s really been not so bad, riding through New England in October.  Mostly the days have been in the neighborhood of 70 and sunny, drivers have been courteous, hospitality has been astounding and the ponies are doing really well.
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Actually, riding through New England in October has felt a little bit like one of those hut-to-hut vacations you read about in fancy travel magazines.  I’ve only set the tent up once since arriving in Massachusetts (and that was in an idyllic setting between a brook and an orchard).  Since the writing conference at Rowe I’ve been passed along from gracious host to helpful neighbor, I’ve skirted the borders of Vermont and New Hampshire from beautiful back road to perfect trail, from mountain top to stream to lake to charming town, horses and riders coming out to show us the best route or simply to keep the ponies and me company.  It’s late harvest, winter vegetables and the very last of the sweet corn, apple cider and donuts – big orange pumpkins anticipating Halloween.
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And then there was Monday.  Monday I rode all day in a chilly drizzle.  Sometimes it rained hard.  I have a half-kidding sort of theory about Walmart’s conspiracy to make sure people don’t spend too much time outside.  For instance, their tents only really work when it’s dry and calm.  I got one of their “frog togs” rain jackets awhile back – super light weight, breathes well, kept me dry enough in brief rains – I was pretty happy with it.  Well, in persistent wetness over many hours it started to leak – not in a few spots – All Over.  I wasn’t prepared with adequate zip-locks and my maps started to disintegrate.  I walked a lot to keep my toes from getting numb.  I tied the ponies to a lamppost in a parking lot in Ashburnham, MA where they were much fussed over while I ran in to Dunkin’ Donuts for a pumpkin coffee and a pumpkin donut and an egg sandwich.  En route to the bike bath I encountered a young couple who asked the usual questions.  I invited them to walk along with me while we chatted but they were slower than Finehorn in the desert in July and as they fell back the young man called out forlornly, “but we’ll never see you again…”
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The bike path was perfect, albeit soggy, heading out of town past a variety of mushrooms and then under dripping branches of pine, paralleling a very busy road at rush hour as dusk was falling and I was expected at the barns of Bill Clark, an AQHA reining trainer who had offered a place for the night.  He’d just about given up on me but we got the ponies situated in adjoining stalls and when I was shown to a long trailer where Bill’s students sometimes stay when they come for lessons from far away it was already dark.  There was no water or electric, but I was incredibly grateful to be out of the wet and sleeping on a real mattress.  Luxury!
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Tuesday morning the weather looked to be improving, the 6 miles along route 12 went well, I found a delicious calzone at Village Pizza and headed up River Styx Road.  Those of you who haven’t forgotten your mythology will understand why I was feeling a little nervous.  The road was narrow and winding and steep and when a school bus came up behind me at the very moment a big Asplundh tree trimming truck, complete with basket, came over the hill towards me I hopped off mr.James pronto.  The law in Massachusetts gives equestriennes the right of way to the point where vehicles are required to slow down and wait until the rider gives a signal that it’s safe to pass.  Not everybody has heard of this law, but once I did I was careful to give a sign when drivers slowed down or stopped.  Blessings on the truck driver, he waited at the top of the hill until the school bus carefully went past me and I gave him the thumbs up.
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As we topped a hill a guardian angel drove up in a silver Volvo station wagon.  She rolled down her window and said that the ponies and I needed to seek shelter.  A big storm was coming in with high winds, it had brought tornados to the west – we had about two hours.  I thanked her and spent a few minutes riding along pondering how seriously I needed to take her warning (the Mutha Hubba tent has proved itself a worthy shelter).  Suddenly a gust blew up and we were bombarded with hundreds of acorns.  They hurt!  The ponies weren’t particularly pleased with this development and I remembered the Bradford Pear tree in Tennessee blowing down in a storm a couple of hours after I’d moved Jesse from where he’d been tied to it.  I had no plan for a place to stay that night but I did have a ‘phone number for the woman who’d invited us the next night.  I called.  She sent friends with a horse trailer who met us in Ashby in a turnabout by a pond with a red boat and a big house for sale.  Half an hour later we were safely under cover and for once the ponies seemed quite happy about being inside in nice safe stalls – even Saint Finehorn!
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I am writing tonight from my Aunt and Uncle’s house in Harvard, MA.  The ponies are waiting for me up in New Hampshire.  We’re only 20 miles apart as the crow flies and I know they’re being well taken care of but it feels awfully strange to be away from them  – I’m sure they feel it too.  Last night my aunt invited a bunch of people over for a potluck dinner and I talked and answered questions for four hours!  I’ve run errands and seen teenagers coordinate to put long, heavy crew boats into a lake and I’ve waded in chilly (tho not yet Atlantic) waters.  I’ve been working on figuring out my route and timing from here to Minot (anybody know anybody up near Wells, Maine?)  I’ve been eating delicious food, fielding ‘phone calls, returning e-mails and trying to decide if it’s safe to leave the tent behind (and save 8# of pack weight) for the last 3 1/2 weeks of the Journey.  I’ve been drinking too much coffee and fantasizing about catching up on sleep.  Last week over a dinner table I mentioned something about having to get caught up on my “homework” and it was obvious that office chores and pragma were not part of the romantic, adventurous, wild cowgirl image dancing through the heads of my dinner mates!  Such is life – and I’m feeling very much behind in that realm.
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For anybody planning to come to Minot from out of town -> my folks have arranged for a block of rooms at a group discount at the Hilton Garden Inn in Auburn under “Free Range Rodeo”.  The hotel is a 15 minute drive from Minot – rooms are $89+tax and contain two queens or one king – some are large enough to add a rollaway.  Call the hotel directly at: 207-784-4433 if you’d like to reserve one of them!  More to come soon on Minot Plans!
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YOU Are Invited!

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One month from today I’ll be riding into Minot, Maine – leading a parade to honor Mesannie Wilkins (The Last of the Saddle Tramps), proudly carrying the flag of the Long Riders’ Guild and bringing my own 25 month Journey to its conclusion.  It would make me exceedingly happy to have people there from all along the trail, from every state I’ve travelled through, from the times of bliss and the times of near despair.  Hundreds of you amazing and wonderful people have made this Journey possible.  You’ve helped me find the best route, let me tether my ponies on your lawns, opened your hay barns, prayed for my protection, fed me delicious meals, let me use your showers, given money, laundered my clothes, encouraged me and made me laugh when times were hard, worked miracles with tack issues, taken care of me when I’ve been sick or injured, given the ponies a place to lay up when they needed time to heal, sent notes and messages and care packages, offered water or a smile and a wave as I rode by, welcomed me into your homes and your lives and your hearts and so much more!  In my heart you’ve become a linear community and I wish you could all meet one another and inspire one another as you’ve inspired me.  I’d love to have you come join in the parade, the celebration, the pooling of memories and sharing of stories.  I really wish I could find a way to invite you each personally and specifically!  Please!  Consider yourself invited!  😉
Mesannie Wilkins with Rex, Tarzan and Depeche Toi

Juls Goodell is coordinating things with the Minot Historical Society and the town of Minot and she’d love to hear from people who are interested in being involved in any way to make this event as special as possible.  Her e-mail address is:  julsgoodell@gmail.com    There will be a planning meeting this coming Thursday (10.October) at 6:30pm EST – so input before that time would be great.  After that time I’ll be able to fill you in a bit more about plans for the weekend.  Right now my understanding is that there will be a parade Friday 8.November 4-5pm as I ride into town.  I’m thinking it would be a lot of fun if people (in costume?) on horseback joined me along the way as I rode my last day into Minot – gradually swelling the ranks until we became a parade. 😉  Not sure if this is entirely practical or not?  Following the parade will be a grange hall dinner.  Saturday morning (9-?) will be some sort of fun ceremony with speeches and laughter and the sharing of stories.  There are people in Minot who remember Mesannie Wilkins from when she lived there and I’m hoping they’ll fill us in on the real reason she left town!
Mesannie Wilkins grave
I have met so many people over the past two years who read The Last of the Saddle Tramps, loved the book, were inspired by the woman and her story and dreamed of following in her footsteps.  I have been incredibly blessed to have been able to do exactly that – and am privileged and honored to be returning to the home town of a true, trailblazing American heroine.  Her book reminded me how important it is for each of to live our own unique dreams (no matter how crazy they sound to those who think they know us) and showed me how much we can get done if we use what we’ve got.  Mesannie Wilkins was born in 1891, around the time that the first American car was made; she was 22 years old when women got the right to vote.  As amazing as it might sound today, simply dressing “for comfort and safety” (read: trousers) was still a fairly radical act for a 63 year old woman in 1954.  In so many ways I’ve had it so easy compared to her ride!  I do hope to see many of you in Minot.  Come join the celebration!
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The Muchness of it All

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In five weeks this ride will be done.  Minot, Maine will be a real place full of real people in my heart – rather than  a spot on a map, a destination and a bunch of e-mails full of plans.  So often these days I find myself a bit overwhelmed with the muchness of it all; heart overflowing and eyes welling up.  This has been my all-consuming life for two very full years and it’s kind of hard to imagine anything else as fully real – although I do have  very clear fantasies about not packing and balancing the packs every day, about a bed that doesn’t roll up every morning, about some sort of a kitchen to call my own.
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the ponies saw a bear!

the ponies saw a bear!

The “Writing Naturally” workshop at Rowe Conference Center last weekend was everything I’d hoped it would be and more – H. Emerson Blake (Chip) is ed-in-chief of “Orion Magazine” which I’ve read and loved for many years and even more than “writing” I was challenged to think about why I write and for whom.  Discussions about generosity to the reader and building bridges of thoughts and words, writing to increase the capacity for wonder and a new perspective – incredibly helpful as I think about the book that will need to be carved out and crafted from the sometimes overwhelming abundance of stories I’ve ridden through since 10.October, 2011.  The voice in my head says: “Tell the stories and let the stories tell the Story.”  Sage advice, but how to choose which stories to tell!?!
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look Finehorn, Jesse made it across ok!

look Finehorn, Jesse made it across ok!

Even now, trying to get a blog post written, choose between the photographs (which are taking forever to load) pack the bags (laptop rides nestled in the bedroll – so this has to happen first) and get back on the trail in time to make tonight’s destination before dusk…  Knowing it’s inevitable that I’ll ride down the road thinking of what I should have said!
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Lucy Leaf with the Free Range Rodeo

Lucy Leaf with the Free Range Rodeo

I’ve had a lot of good company on the road in the past stretch.  Lucy Leaf, a Long Rider from Maine who rode her horse Igor across the country (and back!) for 4 years in the 70s came out to meet me on Thursday.  She’d spent Wednesday scouting a route for me from Adams to Rowe – lovely trails I never would have found on my own and a perfect camp spot between a brook and an orchard.  It was like having a guardian trail angel along for a day – coming out of the woods at odds with my map, there she was, pointing the way!  Coming down a long steep curvy grade, there she was, right behind me with her flashers on, warning other vehicles!  Sharing stories and laughter and thoughts on living with the herd – All this and pizza too!  😉

the meeting of the Fjords!

the meeting of the Fjords!

I met a horsewoman/farmer/artist/writer at Rowe who took me in and then passed me on and Massachusetts has been a delight of hospitality, beautiful back roads and nourishing companionship.  I’ve had hosts ride out with me to get me started and ride out to find me and bring me in and one woman who rode a middle stretch (on her Fjord) and when we got to her farm the ponies had a drink and I was given fresh maple candy (my favorite!)  The weather (until yesterday) has been holding sunny and breezy and beautiful for riding through and the bounty of apples continue to delight us all.
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There’s a bit of folk wisdom that says that the higher the wasps nests are built in the trees the more snow to expect – this beauty was higher than I could reach from Jesse’s back!
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